


Without You

by EmancipateEdgar



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Just not yet, M/M, Suicide Attempt, i promise fluff, i think that's all, if i missed some let me know, this will be really fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmancipateEdgar/pseuds/EmancipateEdgar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas didn't think he could ever get over Chuck's death. Newt didn't think he would ever get passed today. That is until they meet each other in the worst possible conditions. But maybe terrible conditions make for fantastic relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my bae over on Twitter, Bianca. She wanted Newtmas (and so did I but I wasn't motivated enough) so I'm giving her Newtmas. *throws confetti*
> 
> -If you find any errors, please do let me know, for my proofreading skills are quite horrid.

  
Waves crashed below him. One after the other they broke against the rocks, filling his ears with their overbearing sounds. The sound was almost deafening, although it barely dampened his thoughts.

Trapped. He felt trapped. Nowhere to turn, no way to escape. Nowhere. No way. Nothing. As the walls closed in on his mind, his feet closed in on the edge. Inch by inch bringing him closer to the only seeable escape. He couldn’t bring himself to actually look down, pulling his yellow beanie over his eyes. He closed them for good measure, blocking every bit of light he could manage.

His worn, drawn on converses met the cliff, knocking loose dirt and pebbles down into the unforgiving waters. They made no sound against the silencing crashes. Nor would he. How fitting for him to leave so insignificantly. He was no more than loosened dirt, waiting for his fateful tumble down into nothing. No sound. No nothing.

Thoughts echoed and bounced. Becoming louder with each ricochet, until they matched that of the waves. Each paired itself to a crash.

 _You’re a bloody ticking time bomb._ Crash. _Not much longer_. Crash. _You’re nothing_. Crash. _Your parents can’t afford to keep you bloody alive._ Crash. _You’re too much of a burden._ Crash. _You’re at least choosing how you die. You’re bloody defected. No one even wants you. This is the best option. Everything you do is a mistake. You are a mistake. You’re a terrible person. Look at how much you’ve hurt your family_.

Everything jumbled together to create a mess of white noise, and the only thing he wanted was silence. Peace. And just like dirt. He fell. And made no sound.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thomas sighed, content with his choice to take advantage of the perfect weather and go find his muse. The sun peeked from behind a cluster of clouds, and he slid his sunglasses down to shield his eyes. A small smile played at his lips as he leaned back into the cliff face. His favorite spot. A few meters from a rocky shore, where the jagged stones began to morph into a sandy shore, and the cliff face receded back towards inland, tapering down to just a hill. He normally settled himself near the calmer waters, back against the rock face, legs in the cool water, sketchpad in hand.

It was days like this that he focused the most, channeled himself into his art the most. Thomas didn’t necessarily go to this spot to draw what he saw rather than immerse himself in his surroundings and let them guide his hand to draw what he felt. Sometimes, more often than not, he found himself drawing for hours on end, not breaking his focus until the sun was long past set.

Today was no different. Closing his eyes and feeling the sun on his face, Thomas let the sound of distant crashing waves filter his thoughts and the noises of the town until nothing but creative energy was left. Eyes now open, pencil mindlessly tapping against his lips, something in his peripherals caught his attention.

A few meters above and away from him, atop the towering cliff, stood a boy. He seemed to be in deep thought as he stood there, head bowed, hands clasped together hiding his face. Something about the stranger seemed peaceful, but desperately so. It was fascinating.

Without even meaning to, Thomas adjusted his position to better suit his new focus, and his pencil started replicating what he saw. He wanted to capture this moment perfectly. The flawless break of the sea water on rock. The hint of sunlight. The skewed shadows. The thin, fragile look of the boy. But the mature posture and manner that seemed to radiate off him. Thomas’ mouth almost started to water at the perfection of the sight. This could be his best piece yet, if he could manage it.

Line after line, the image before him began to emerge on the paper. Everything he hoped it would be was what it was. He was almost giddy, scratch that he was ecstatic at how this was turning out. Glancing up again for what was probably the twentieth time in the past thirty-five minutes, he noticed an essential piece of his drawing missing.

The boy, although most certainly present in Thomas’ drawing, seemed to be missing from his clifftop perch. Thomas’ heart sank a little at the absence of the stranger, he had been so close to finishing the boy. Now he had to go off of memory, and that was never as accurate as the real thing.  

Going back to his drawing with a sigh, Thomas set his pencil and pad down. He didn’t want to finish it from memory, he wanted to do it justice that pure memorization wouldn’t accomplish. Looking back up to the now empty cliff, something caught his eye down in the water.

The brutal waves were throwing something against the rocky shore. It was oddly limp, and- _oh god,_ Thomas thought, _it was a person._

Rushing to his feet, Thomas started running towards the body that was being flung unforgivingly, his things long forgotten behind him. As the somewhat smooth beach began to turn rocky and jagged, Thomas’ pace slowed. He hurdled over rock after rock.Scrambling over one last one, Thomas came to the person in the water. Back up, limbs dangling down in the water, the boy from the cliff floated. Placing his hands under the boy’s arms, Thomas hoisted him onto the rock, and out of the water. Losing his footing, Thomas slid down the rock, leg dragging against the rough surface. Pain burned through his leg as blood started to well up, then slowly drip down. He ignored it, concentrated on hauling the body out of the water.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” panic flooded Thomas’ system as he took in the boy’s condition. His left leg was angled in the most unnatural way possible, the skin that wasn’t protected by his clothing was shredded from the beating against the rocks, and his breathing was stuttered, barely there if at all.

Thomas rolled his sleeves up even more than they were, and did what he knew how to do. _Mrs. Clancy you are a godsend right now., even though your exams were hell,_ Thomas praised his health teacher silently.

He knelt next to the boy, ignoring the increase in his burning in his leg as the rock began to cut into his wound deeper. Tilting the boy’s beaten face back and opening his mouth, Thomas placed both his hands - one on top of the other - on the boy’s chest. _One, two, three, four, five_. He counted in his head as he did each compression. After thirty compressions, he pinch the crooked nose and held his mouth open as he blew into the boy’s mouth twice. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Hope was leaving Thomas with each unsuccessful attempt. His movements were becoming more desperate as time went on. Nothing. Thomas sat back on his feet, legs bloody from digging into the rough rock. Burying his face in his hands, he felt like screaming. Not even fifteen minutes ago he was depicting this boy in a flawless portrait, and now the boy was no more than lifeless. He couldn’t save him. What did Thomas think he was doing, he was just an idiot teenager. He didn’t know how to handle situations like these. Why didn’t he just yell for help? He was a downright stupid for thinking he could actually do something, help someone. Now he just felt sick, bile rising in his throat.

_His world seemed to morph into something completely different. Instead of the rocky shore, he was on the side of the road, car wrapped around a tree. He was dragging Chuck from the passenger seat. Screams were just falling from his mouth, making his voice hoarse. His friend. His best friend. Lying in the street, childish brown curls matted down with blood, Chuck struggled to breathe. Uneven and shallow breaths were all he could manage. As Thomas held Chuck, too panicked to do much else than that, his brother from another mother managed one last "You're shucking ugly, you know that?" before he stopped breathing altogether. Sirens surrounded them, and all of a sudden Chuck was being taken from his arms. He screamed no after no after no until his voice gave up on him, and-_

All of that was interrupted when a gurgling cough came from the boy in front of him. Peeking through his fingers, Thomas eyed the struggling boy, taken aback at the actual success of his CPR. Another cough and Thomas snapped back into action, situating himself behind the boy. Gently he sat the boy upright and firmly hit his back. Cough after cough came until water found its way back up from his lungs.

After what seemed like ages the coughs became drier, and then there was no more water. Relief. Once the boy was breathing properly again, Thomas eased him back, resting the boy’s head in his lap.. He stared at the boy intently. The boy’s eyelids drooped, barely showing chocolate kissed eyes, as he began to come back to reality.

“Hey, listen buddy,” Thomas spoke with a smooth voice trying to prevent any further panic, “You’re going to be okay. I know it hurts, but you gotta stay with me, though. I’m gonna move you now.”

Slipping his arms underneath the boy’s knees and upper back, Thomas picked the boy up bridal style. As the boy’s injured leg became dead weight, still unnatural in its position, a small whimper of pain escaped the boy’s lips.

“Shh, I know,” Thomas soothed.

Thomas trekked back the way he came, this time slower and more wary of the body in his arms. Stopping only to grab his bag, which was an endeavor in of itself as he was trying not to move the boy’s leg too much, Thomas continued forward uninterrupted until he reached the sandy steps leading up the hillside.

One by one, Thomas found the strength to carry the boy all the way to the top. How he had gotten this far, he didn’t know, but he still found it in him to hoist the boy into his jeep. Adrenaline still pumping through his system, Thomas jumped into the driver’s side without hesitation. Turning the key and throwing it in reverse, Thomas backed out of his parking spot, then threw it back to drive and raced out of the parking lot.

Not exactly knowing where to take the semi-conscious boy, Thomas chose the only place he could think of: Mad River Community Hospital. It was were he had been taken when he broke his collarbone in ninth grade playing soccer. Without a second thought, he sped up, speed limits be damned.

Merging onto US-101, Thomas took to the empty left lane. He pressed the pedal to the floor, becoming more distressed as the minutes ticked by. What was he going to do if the kid died in his car? He couldn’t deal with watching another body having to be dragged from his car. _No_ , he scolded himself, _Thomas, you’re not going to start thinking about Chuck again. No_. He reigned in his thoughts, centering his attention to the road signs, searching for the right exit. Without any warning, Exit 716B came into view, and Thomas - not bothering to go through the proper procedures - crossed lanes and got on the exit. Car horns honked at his jeep, swears filtering out of cracked car windows, and even a finger was thrown his direction. He didn’t care.

The sudden jolt of the car sent the boy against the window, and the only thing that let Thomas know that the boy was still alive, still there, was the sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry, sorry,” Thomas’ forehead creased with worry, his adrenaline high started to deflate, “sorry.” His voice was now no louder than a whisper, and he took the next turn with a lot more caution.

As his adrenaline flatlined, everything became so much more real to him. Reality began to rain down on him. And hard. Here he was, driving a complete stranger, bloody, battered, and barely alive, to the hospital. His own legs were in need of serious bandages, raw from the beatings they took. He’s not quite sure even how the boy ended up in the tumbling in the waves.

The weight of the situation was suffocating, and Thomas’ hands started to quiver. His grip tightened, whitening his knuckles, trying to lessen the shaking. Nothing helped. Thomas’ hands - wrists and all - shook with such force, he had to channel all his attention to keeping the car in between the lines. What would he do if he didn’t make it to the hospital in time? How could he cope with seeing another sheet-covered body? He couldn’t. He knew that much. Especially if it happened even remotely similar to how it did with Chuck.

Thoughts of Chuck's lifeless body made all of the contents of Thomas’ stomach want to spill over his shoes, and they would have if he hadn’t spotted the hospital mere meters ahead of him. This time using his turn signal, Thomas turned into the emergency and urgent care entrance. Pulling into the closest spot he could find, he turned off his jeep and took a deep breath. Although panic and anxiety seemed to have the reins on his actions, he knew he needed to be calm for the boy to actually get the help he needed.

With one final, calming breath Thomas got out of the jeep and crossed over to the passenger door, carefully opening it to make sure the boy wasn’t going to topple out and on top of Thomas. Seeing that the boy was indeed not going to fall on him, he patted the boy’s pockets searching for any sort of ID. A cell phone would be no help, the fact that the boy’s cargo shorts were still soaked made it pretty clear that anything technical is most likely not working. Easily enough Thomas found the boy’s wallet and (surprise surprise) waterlogged phone. Stuffing those in his pockets, he eased the boy out of the jeep. Just as he did before, Thomas carried the boy bridal style in his arms. He shut the door with his leg and began towards the automatic doors of the ER.

Walking as quickly as he could, Thomas entered through the doors scanning the waiting room for the reception desk. Without much searching, he found it and hurried over. He ignored the stares and subtle whispering filtering towards them, and got the nurse’s attention.

“Excuse me,” Thomas’ voice cracked, not to his surprise. Once Thomas started speaking, though, the words wouldn’t stop and panic took over. “I, uhh, he, uhh, needs help… and probably immediately. I found him at the base of Tepona Point, I think. And he wasn’t breathing, but I managed CPR, and now he is breathing but it seems barely, and his leg is twisted terribly, he’s bleeding heavily from his arms cause the waves were just thrashing him against the rocks, and please. Please help h-”

The nurse, who was scribbling something down at her desk when he approached her, was now standing in front of him, calming hands on his. With a nod, she called over to a doctor with his back turned. All of a sudden, arms replaced his and the boy was taken from his hold and laid on a nearby gurney. Thomas stood and watched as another doctor and a nurse joined the first, and they wheeled the boy away.

Just as soon as the weight of the boy was lifted from his arms, the weight of worry burdened not only his tired arms, but his whole being. The sudden emptiness was too much, and with a thud Thomas collapsed to his knees. As his forgotten about legs hit the floor, the dull pain flared. Wincing, Thomas stretched his legs out, getting his actual first look at them. His left was worse than his right, a huge scrap covering his shin, both knees torn up and bloody. Maybe without the smears of blood - now on the floor as well - it wouldn’t look as bad, but along with every cut, stains of blood covered it and several inches around it. Not to mention his hands, stained with the other boy’s blood.

He stared at his trembling, blood-soiled hands, terrified. This whole situation terrified Thomas to the point of numbness. He felt like he was in a trance, everything around him was moving so slowly. Finally, Thomas looked away from his hands, worried he might empty his stomach all over himself. In front of him, the nurse from before was snapping in front of his face, trying to get him to focus. Her mouth was moving, but no sounds were registering in Thomas’ head. What was she saying? He really wished he could read lips.

Concern creased her forehead, a she yelled something over her shoulder. At least, Thomas thought she yelled, but it seemed that his hearing had quit on him for the moment. When Thomas tried to speak, his mouth would open, but his throat would close up. No sound emitted from him. Thomas tried to focus on her lips, her unheard voice, anything, but the more that he concentrated, the more the background would slowly begin to spin. A panic attack. He hadn’t gotten one of these since six months after Chuck’s memorial service. Thomas thought he had grown out of them. Apparently not. Another few moments or so, and he’ll be fine, he knew that, but that didn’t make the situation any better.

From behind the woman in front of him another nurse appeared, different than the one that wheeled the boy away. Together the nurses grabbed underneath Thomas’ arms and lifted him to his feet. The room spun slowly, soundlessly. They guided Thomas to a room, he struggled with each step, his legs barely able to stay under him.

The two nurses sat Thomas on the bed, and the one from the reception desk crouched in front of him. She kept speaking to him, her lips moving a mile a minute. And slowly but surely, her voice began to slip past the sound barrier Thomas’ panic created. Just as quickly as all noise left Thomas’ life, it entered with full force. The room finally settled back into its normal place and stayed there. It was over. Thankfully, it was minor, unlike a few he experienced after Chuck. The second nurse left without a word.

“You okay now, bud?” the first nurse spoke with a soft smile on her face. Thomas nodded. “Good, just shock, bud, I don't blame you. I’m gonna patch up these legs of yours, now. They don’t look so bad. They won't need stitched but I will have to bandage them. And while I do that we can get all yours and your friend’s info, bud.”

She stood up and retrieved what she needed. When she returned, a smile still present on her face, she started cleaning his wounds. “Now, bud,” she started working while she talked, “Let’s start with you since you’re here. Flora, can you write down his info for me?” She threw that last sentence over her shoulder to a girl who just passed the door. How she knew that the girl was there, even though her back was towards the door, Thomas didn’t know. Within a couple seconds, Flora came through the door clipboard in hand.

The nurse still cleaning his cuts shot a quick “thank you” to Flora and turned back to Thomas, “Alright, bud, we need the basic info, you know, name, address, date of birth.”

He replied without hesitation, “Thomas Edison, 8-”

“Okay, be serious, bud, I need your info so everything can go smoothly,” the smile had disappeared from her face.

Thomas wrung his hands together, “I am being serious, I can’t help my parents had a sense of humor when they named me. My sister’s name is Teresa, her middle name’s Agnes. My parents were just all over naming their kids after significant people in history.”

The smile returned, and a laugh accompanied it, “Alright, alright , bud, I believe you.”

“Anyways, address is 888 Galindo Street, Trinidad 95570. And date of birth is January 30th, 1997.”

“Good that?” Flora nodded, confirming that she caught all his info. “Alright, I think the reason you came in is obvious, so let’s move on shall we? Any known allergies I should know about, Thomas?”

“Besides pollen and cats, nope.”

“Any recent major injuries or surgeries?”

“None.”

It went on like that, until both Thomas’ legs were cleaned and bandaged and the nurse had all the necessary information. Once they were done, the nurse stood up and motioned for Thomas to follow her, “Your legs should heal up just fine,” she talked as she lead Thomas to the bathroom, “Now, bud, go wash your hands and we can talk about your friend.”

Thomas did as he was told, adding in a few splashes of cool water on his face. After he left the bathroom, the nurse and him returned to the same room, “It’s ridiculously slow for once, so we can keep to this room while we figure everything out.”

Sitting back on the bed, Thomas dug out the boy’s damp wallet and phone, and he tossed the phone aside, “Yeah, about that, I have no idea who he is actually. I just saw him in the water and, well, I don’t know I kind of panicked and did whatever. I have his wallet, and his phone, although I doubt his phone will even help.”

“Alright, first off, Flora just leave the forms, and take over front desk for me?”

Flora nodded with a smile and a “ No problem, Julie. Get better, Thomas.” She turned on her heel and left.

“Now, bud, let’s see what we can find out from this wallet.”

The wallet was a deep brown leather on the outside, but the inside was comic book patterned - specifically Captain America. Pulling out the boy’s driver’s license, Julie asked questions and Thomas answered.

“Okay, basic info, name, address, date of birth.”

“Name: Isaac Newton,” at that he chuckled, “Looks like my parents aren’t alone in the whole ‘name your child after famous people’ party.” Julie’s smile grew. “His address is 3631 Glenwood Street, Myrtletown, 95501. And his date of birth is October 17th, 1996.”

She wrote down what Thomas just told her, then set the clipboard down. “I’m assuming that we’re not going to find any other answers in there,” Julie pointed to the wallet. Thomas verified her assumption, finding only a wet twenty dollar bill and a few rewards cards.

Just then, one of the doctor’s that had taken the boy, _Isaac_ Thomas reminded himself, entered the room with a knock on the door frame. “Everything is alright,” the man assured, “he’ll recover. His leg is fractured in two places, that’ll take the longest to heal, there’ll be some scarring as well, but other than that he’ll get better. Do we have a way to contact his parents?”

Relief collapsed every bit of worry that Thomas felt with those words. _Isaac was going to be okay. He survived. Isaac survived._ Thomas cracked a smile so wide it hurt. Everything is going to be okay.

“I’m sure we can find a way to contact them,” Julie replied instead while Thomas sat there with his goofy grin, “We’ll get them in here as soon as we can. What room is he admitted to?”

“Room 226. Bring them there when they arrive, and call me in. We can then straighten out what exactly happened, and get the rest of his information. Thank you, Julie.”

“Will do, Dr. Robbins”

And with a curt nod, the man exited the room. Julie turned to Thomas, “C’mon, bud, we have to open this room back up to the ER. Normally, you would be released, now, but unfortunately, you have to stay. You saw what happened. You're going to have to explain it all sooner or later, bud.”

Thomas stuffed the phone and wallet back in his pants, getting up to follow Julie. His legs were a little shaky, tired from the exertion he put forth today. She led him to the elevator and pushed the button to go up. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to an empty car. Getting in and again pushing the button to go up, Julie leaned back against the wall and sighed. After a short moment the elevator dinged for a second time, and the doors opened.

When they stepped out of the car, Julie gestured towards the waiting room across the hall, “Go on and sit in there while I search for his parents.”

Complying, Thomas chose the chair in the far right corner and plopped down. Once he hit the chair, exhaustion kicked in with full force. His body truly ached, and his mind, well, his mind just wanted to rest. And so he did. He didn’t bother adjusting his position to a more comfortable one. He just passed out.

 

 


End file.
